Quinn's speech
by Grey Tulip
Summary: Quinn takes a speech in honor of a special person on a special occasion.


_Just a short standalone one-shot that randomly popped up in my mind. Maybe this helps me in finally win my inspiration back for my other stories. I sure hope so._

 _Please tell me what you think, especially if it is constructive criticism._

* * *

"I still remember when I first asked you out, back in high school. We were in New York with the Glee Club. You told me to 'stick it where the sun doesn't shine'."

This causes some laughter around the table.

"It had to be 'doesn't', because even while swearing you had to be grammatically correct. Up to this day, this remains the only time I ever heard you swear – outside of the bedroom, that is. – Ouch, Rachel, don't hit me."

"You don't have to tell that to everybody."

"But it's true. – Ouch. – Alright, I'll stop. Okay, back to the text. Instead of going out with me, you went back to that bumbling idiot over there."

"Hey!", Finn shouts indignantly, raising his arms in a defensive gesture, knocking over his glass in the process.

"I rest my case", I reply as dryly as I can, though a small snicker makes it past my lips. "Luckily I didn't give up. I asked you out again. I tried giving you roses, chocolate, cute little cards with hearts on them, having Karofsky slushied – which, if I remember correctly, gained me nothing but a half-an-hour-long lecture about the futility of revenge - and speaking up for you in Glee to get you a solo. I'm pretty sure that when you finally agreed to go out on a date with me – without the knowledge of your boyfriend, of course – it was mainly due to me annoying you into it. It was the first time you made me a happy woman just by saying yes. And for some reason, on that date we did exactly what we never could before: we spend several consecutive hours with each other without me ripping out your throat and you lecturing me about something, and completely without any shouting whatsoever. We met up behind your boyfriend's back for about two months until you ended it with him. I still haven't formally apologized to him for that, so I'm gonna do that now: I'm sorry, Finn. Though, given that you are here today, I would guess that you have forgiven me for my 'little transgression'."

He nods in confirmation. "Wouldn't call it 'little', but yeah."

"The second time you made me happy with by saying yes it was mixed up with some other words, I think 'God', 'Quinn' and 'fuck' were a few of them – Ouch! – You see what I have to put up with? It's not even two hours ago that we said our wedding vows and I already have to put up with spousal abuse." Seeing as she is about to hit me again, I kiss her softly, before continuing on: "Now the third time was when I asked her if she loved me, and she said yes. I really don't care how mushy this sounds – say a word and I'll tell Brittany what you wanted to do to Lord Tubbington, Santana – but that was the moment I knew this was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. Now with age comes wisdom – some, at least, mostly it's just wrinkles – and I now know that many things could have gone wrong along the way. We got lucky, too – relax, honey, I'm not gonna make another inappropriate joke – but I thank God for letting me keep this wonderful woman by my side.

The fourth time was when I was finally accepted to NYU – you had gotten your acceptance letter to NYADA already – and I asked you to move to New York with me, just the two of us in a small, dinky apartment, and you accepted. It was a chaotic time, but still one of the happiest of my life, because finally, I could be with you without my mother or your fathers breathing down our neck – no offense."

"None taken", Hiram answers for the three of them.

"Now you all might notice my father is not here today. He still thinks me a sinner for being with you. Quite a big mouth for a man who has just gone through his second divorce after committing adultery – again, might I add. But if being with you makes me a sinner like him, then I accept it with open arms. Which is why, when you finally got your first role in an on-Broadway play and I secured a job as a journalist for the New York Times, I asked you to marry me.

That was the fifth time you said yes, making me your happy woman, and only yours. Now the sixth time was not that long ago, just today, in fact. It might have been phrased slightly differently, 'I do', but I think it still counts.

They say that third time's the charm. Had we stopped at the third, we would have stayed the typical high school couple. We would have been close in until graduation, just to fall apart afterwards. So I say: Why stop at three? I want to hear you say yes to me again and again, just like I will to you. Yes, I want to take you out to see the world with me. Yes, I want to make love to you, and for you to make love to me. Because, yes, I will love you. Always. Yes, I want to spend my life with you.

And yes, I promise to stay true to you, to cherish you, again, to love you. When you lie next to me, your arms around me. When you fix the cute guy next to me at the bar with a death glare, daring him not to come any closer to me. When you whisper sweet nothings into my ear. When you act like a spoiled brat – don't look at me like that, you know that you sometimes do. When you talk to me and when you shout at me. I love you. I will love you. Until death do us part."

I clear my throat, turning back from looking at my wife to address our guests. Now please raise your glasses with me in a toast for my wonderful wife, Rachel Berry."

The people around the table lift their glasses in a murmured chorus of "To Rachel", their voices just low enough that Santana's stands out amongst them: "Seriously, Q? That was mushy like hell, but whatevs. To the hobbit." And she lifts her glass alongside the others.


End file.
